Super Bowl MVP Who Eats Vaseline For Breakfast.

My brother always liked the Seahawks, and I was ambivalent about today's game, so it's all good.  Besides, I RAN EIGHT MILES TODAY WITH VIRTUALLY NO TRAINING AND I ROCKED, so really, I won the Super Bowl.

The race was a ton of fun, a half marathon split into a relay, where I had the first 8 miles and my friend Carrie had the back 5 and change.  I do wish I had had time to train right, but it was a blast.  In my 8, I passed 5 different bands, 2 cheerleading groups, and about 100 excellent and hilarious signs.  I liked, "Run now, wine later," and "high five for power."  I LOVED "This is the worst parade, ever."  I was on St. Charles.  So appropriate.

At the after-party, when we stood in the Longest Line Ever to board a shuttle back to the starting line, before which we had to walk a mile, and after which, we had to walk another mile, after running our asses off, but anyway...  While standing in this line, I made eye contact with a dude that looked familiar.  He had a "do-I-know..." face, too, and suddenly, we both yelled "HEY!" And I went over and hugged him.  It was a guy my gay and I refer to as "Hot Zack," a guy who was a manager in my department for years at ING, in Atlanta.  And I haven't seen him in almost five years, and it was awesome.  But, I was sweaty and disgusting, and half brain-dead, and so I said, "Welcome to New Orleans!" Then went my way.  Great reunion.  Jesus.

Oh, and note:  on a race, if somebody hands you a Popsicle stick with a smear of crap on the end, that is NOT A GEL.  THAT IS VASELINE.  When I told my mom the story of how I got a mouth full of Vaseline on the course, she said, "haven't I taught you to at least smell something before you put it in your mouth?"  In New Orleans.  Honestly, the Vaseline was probably one of the healthiest things I've ingested in New Orleans.  

The dude running next to me watched me stick it my mouth, remove it, and hold it for a minute with a "what-the-fuck" face.  "Vaseline?" He asked.  Yeppers

I put in another bajillion hours on the house yesterday, resulting in Much White Trim, and a bathroom that looks like this:

I didn't do a goddamn thing for the house today.  Not one goddamn thing.  I feel both guilty and exhilarated, but mostly just fucking tired.  I got up at 4:45.  Took a good nap, but, y'all...  4:45.  That's crazy.

We move on Friday.  It's on, y'all.  And I'm going back to bed.

Happy GroundhogRaceSuperBowl Day!